


Chess

by AnnaFan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous use of chess as metaphor for UST, Overworked trope but hell who cares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/pseuds/AnnaFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little pick me up for a friend who's been ill and feels like she's been run over by a mumak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chess

Faramir's breathing is loud in my ear. Loud and ragged. He leans against me. My arms are round his neck, and I feel as though I am hanging there. A sheen of sweat glues our skin together. Come to think of it, my breathing isn't exactly steady. There are still sparks behind my lids when I shut my eyes. But gradually, my surroundings are coming back to me. In particular, the... pawn, I think it is... which is digging painfully into my left arse cheek.

Faramir beats me at chess with annoying regularity. So I thought I'd shift the odds a bit in my favour. A piece of clothing for every piece taken. I'd made sure I had extra clothes on to give me a head start. Initially Faramir complained that I was counting a hair ribbon as an item of clothing. I told him he wasn't trying hard enough. A handful of pawns, a bishop and both knights later, with me down to a translucent shift, he'd stopped complaining. I wasn't doing so badly - I'd argued that surely the unlikely achievement of my taking one of his bishops must be worth not one but the pair of boots... And most recently, in order to take the second of my knights, he'd sacrificed a pawn, and with it his shirt...

I could see his thoughts going round his head. Somehow he had to get his small clothes off before I had to take my shift off. I knew we were about to see another exchange of pieces, but I didn't expect quite such an extravagant gesture, as he placed his queen in the path of my remaining bishop. The queen came off the board, his small clothes came off his hips... And oh Bema, his cock was standing to attention, as rigid and upright as the rook he used to take my bishop.

Licking my lips, I slid the shift from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Two swift paces later and he hoisted me, hands on my hips, onto the table, scattering chess pieces to the four winds. He pressed an almost desperate kiss to my lips as I wrapped my thighs around him, pressing my calves into his buttocks, wrapping him, enveloping him in hot, tight, wet need. It only lasted half a dozen thrusts. We were both so tightly wound, it only needed half a dozen thrusts.

And now I'm clinging to him, spent but knowing I want more of the same as soon as we're able.

"So, should we finish the game?" His voice is hoarse, languorous with spent passion.

I cast my gaze down to my left. There, rolling to and fro gently in an arc, is his king.

"When you lifted me onto the table, you knocked your own king over, my love. That's a resignation. I won. Unless..." I let my fingers trail down his spine and caress his arse, "You want a rematch."

He lifts me, effortlessly, into his arms and carries me across his study to the couch, where he drops me onto the cushions. He bends down over me, his dark hair falling like a curtain around our faces, and whispers into my ear.

"Just for that, oh best beloved, I'm going to do that all over again..."


End file.
